Atypical Fairy Tale
by Belle Vita
Summary: Booth and Bones have their own version of a fairy tale. Now their two children want to hear all about it, so Booth tells them the story of the case that finally brought the partners together. Set in the present and the 'future.'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Ok, my first Bones story, so I hope it goes over well. I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. It will most likely end up being a short- I'm betting in 10 chapters or less, but we shall find out.

Parts of the story in regular font are in the 'present,' if you will, (confusingly enough, that would be the future, if you think about it...) when Booth is telling the kids the story of how he and Bones got together. The parts in _italics _explain the case that finally brings B&B together, which I'm saying is set in season 5. :) Wishful thinking.

I'm trying to make this a light read. I love the banter between B&B, as I'm sure the rest of you do, too. There will certainly be a few darker moments, but overall, not the focus. I also want it to be believable, hence the title of this story. Bones will never be romanced like a typical female. All the better to write about! So please don't expect loads of cheese. I don't do that.

While I'm not going to beg for reviews, I sure do love them, and appreciate honesty. I don't care if you hate it. Tell me. I want to know. Of course, if you love it, that's better, but I always try to improve. A few reviews always gets me writing more, though I try not to let them dictate my writing schedule. Please let me know what you think. Good idea? Bad idea? Worth continuing? Read on, and decide for yourself.

* * *

**Atypical Fairy Tale**

Chapter One: Corpses and Alligators

Booth swung his legs over the side of the couch and cursed as his foot came in heavy contact with a small model airplane. He heard a gasp from the next room. Busted. All he was trying to do was take a nap after a few nights of restless sleep and a couple of near-relentless cases.

"Dad! I'm going to tell on you! You should put a dollar in the swear jar, remember how m–"

Booth rubbed at his tired eyes and ruffled his son's hair. "How about we forget about it just this once, since it was your toy I ended up stepping on, huh? I could tell your mom you didn't listen to her rather insistent lectures about the importance of 'keeping an orderly home.'"

The boy objected. "No, no, don't tell her, please, Dad! I'll pick it up right now."

Booth smiled at his minute victory but wondered how many years of easy, angst-free conversation he had left with his son.

"_What _is he doing?" he heard called from the living room. He had just managed to lie down again, dammit. "Don't touch that!" Another scream. This was not a good start to his evening. "You're going to ruin my exact replica of a four thousand-year-old Egyptian mummy!"

"Leave each other alone," Booth boomed. It was his go-to response for sibling arguments, and there seemed to be a lot of them. Life had been much simpler when neither of them could speak.

"Dad!" when screamed in unison, was never good, he thought as he rose from the couch and strode to the living room, intent on settling their petty fight so he could get a few minutes of shut eye before his wife came home. He hoped she was not expecting him to cover dinner. Not tonight.

Hanley, six, was bent over his sister's mummy replica, a fossil brush in hand, dusting the fake remains for clues, Booth was sure. "He's ruining it!" Tullia complained.

Booth knelt on the rug. "Dad's not in the mood for a fight right now, guys. And he's not ruining it, Tullia, he's playing. Can't you share with your brother for once?"

"No," she said defiantly. "I cannot. This mummy is called _mine_ for a reason. It's my property. It's mine to play with and mine to share, if I want to. And I do not wish to share it."

The vocabulary and prose of his eight-year-old never failed to amuse him. She was sometimes too much her mother.

"Dad, this is a replica of a four _thousand-_year-old mummy. It's obviously too important to have his grubby hands all over."

Booth conceded. "Fine. But if your brother can't play with it then neither can you. Sound fair?"

He should have known better than to ask an open-ended question, he thought after Tullia began spinning a presentation on unbiased parenting.

Soon after, Hanley began whining too, and Booth was not convinced of his parenting skills or his ability to keep his frustrations in check. They all needed a distraction. "How 'bout a story?" he asked, hyper, hoping to God they would sit down and shut up.

"Tell me a story about a gruesome anthropological find," Tullia insisted. "I can handle it."

"No, I'm not telling you about murders again, Tul. I find it a little creepy how fascinated you are by that stuff."

Tullia crossed her arms in defense. God, did she look like her mother. "Mom says I have a healthy appetite for the harsh realities of this world."

Hanley stomped around the room, since moving from the mummy to the plane Booth had stepped on moments before. "I wanna hear about dinosaurs!" he yelled, interrupting the motor and flying noises he sputtered.

"Dinosaurs are dead, Han. I don't know much about them–"

"Corpses are dead too, Dad. And you know a lot about them. I would like to hear a story about a dismembered corpse."

Booth shut his eyes. Maybe if he kept them closed long enough, both of his children would suddenly fall tired and go to sleep. Maybe it would be quiet. _Only in my dreamland._

"How about something a little less... graphic?"

Tullia shook her head. "That does not interest me."

"How do you know?" Booth argued. "You haven't even heard what I'm going to say!" He shut his eyes again. He was fighting with an eight-year-old. He definitely needed sleep.

"Ok," he said suddenly. "What about... a fairy tale?"

Tullia looked less than impressed. "I'm not interested in hearing about something that is so statistically improbable," she deadpanned, sitting cross-legged on the rug, her chestnut hair hanging to her shoulders.

"You're _eight_," he admonished. "How do you know these things?"

"Almost nine."

_She is growing up too fast._ "Ok then, you're almost nine, so how about the story of... how your mother and I fell in love?"

"Does it involve corpses?"

Booth grinned. They could compromise here, if only for a little silence. "It most certainly does. Lots and lots of corpses."

Tullia pumped her elbow down and closed her fist, hissing, "Yes!"

"What about dinosaurs?" Hanley called.

"Err," Booth hesitated, "there's an alligator thrown in there somewhere." _That has to be good enough._

Hanley dropped the plane loudly on the hardwood floor and took a seat near his older sister.

"Ok, this was quite a while ago, so let me see if I can remember it right," he teased. "We were at the Jeffersonian..."

* * *

_God, this couch was comfortable. Booth sighed contently while he waited for Bones to return to her office. He didn't mind taking a little break. He didn't mind trekking over to the Jeffersonian when he knew perfectly well that Bones would be still be a while on the platform, either. He liked the comfort that her office brought._

_An hour later she leaned over the couch, as if inspecting him or expecting him to do something inhuman. "Booth," she tried softly, attempting to treat him with the same grace she would expect when being awoken. He did not stir. "Booth," she tried again, this time more loudly. Nothing. "Booth!" she yelled, yanking her head back when he sat up suddenly, alarmed. _

"_God, Bones, what the hell is it?"_

_She flipped through the contents of the manilla case folder she held. "You might have very weak auditory receptors," she noted setting the folder down on the coffee table, taking his jaw in her hands and twisting his head to her liking. "The decibel at which I had to yell to wake you up is out of the ordinary."_

"_I was asleep, Bones. Peacefully."_

"_What are you doing in my office?" she asked matter-of-factly. "I thought you were stuck with desk work today."_

_He mentally cursed himself. He could not quite admit to himself that he found himself missing_ _Bones when they had no case to work. He was around the woman all the time. Was he crazy to want more?_

"_Lunch," he stammered. "I wanted to see if you'd like to get lunch with me. At the diner."_

"_Where else would we go?" Bones asked. "It's statistically improbable that you would suggest a different eating establishment."_

_He sighed and brushed off the comment. She was so literal. "Lunch, Bones? Is that a yes?"_

_Raking a hand through her hair, she surveyed her workload. "I suppose I could eat."_

_A few minutes later, "I don't know how you eat that," she pointed to his plate of steak and eggs. "It looks foul."_

"_It's beef," he deadpanned. _

_Missing the joke, she corrected him. "I believe you're thinking of fowl, as in __birds belonging to one of two biological orders, namely the gamefowl or landfowl, which are called Galliformes, and the waterfowl, or Anseriformes–"_

"_Thanks for the biology lesson."_

"_Oh. _Oh. _You made a joke. Right?_

_He raised his eyebrows and held her gaze. "Now you're catching on."_

"_I've become decidedly more amusing since I've been your partner, Booth."_

_

* * *

_

"Mom is not funny," Tullia said. "She is brilliant."

Booth stopped, mid-sentence. "How many interruptions do you plan on making?"

"Only when the story needs correction."

"You can't correct a story if it's already taken place, Tul. This is how it happened..."

* * *

"_So, no new cases?"_

"_Is that your way of saying you _miss _me, Bones?" he asked, smirking as always, watching her pause before she fished a french fry from his side plate._

"_No," she said evenly. "I was simply inquiring about your job, since we're partners. I thought maybe that was why you brought me to lunch."_

_Booth deflated. He could not explain his intense connections with her lately. He could not explain why he wanted her to say she missed working with him, and it was beginning to freak him out._

"_No new cases, at least none involving your talents. Investigated a fraud issue this morning. Nothing exciting. What's keeping you so busy at the lab?"_

"_The thousands of sets of unidentified remains we have in storage."_

"_Talk about morbid, Bones."_

"_I wouldn't say morbid. I would say fascinating."_

_

* * *

_

"What are you doing?" Bones asked when she arrived home, hanging up her coat and placing her purse on the entry table. "Is this some kind of powwow? The Native Americans would actually use a formation very similar to this one in their ritual ceremonies–"

"It's a story, Bones," Booth told her, clasping the back of her neck when she leaned down to kiss him hello. He breathed her in. It was good to have her home. They were interrupted by both Tullia and Hanley, who were waiting for their usual hug and kiss upon a parent's arrival.

Tullia resumed her position on the rug. "Dad's telling us about corpses!"

"No, I'm not," Booth cut in.

"And dinosaurs!"

Bones raised her eyebrows. She was not sure if her husband's storytelling skills should be admired or feared.

"No," he said again, turning toward her. "I'm telling them the story of... us. I'm trying to prove to Tul here that fairy tales do exist. That story happens to include corpses. And alligators, not dinosaurs. So, not your typical fairy tale."

She nodded at him, holding his gaze, meeting the warm brown eyes she looked forward to seeing every day. She snuggled against him on the couch, smiling when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Permission to continue..."


	2. Coquettish

**A/N:** Wow, thank you so much for the reviews. More than I expected. Please, please continue them. This is my first Bones story, so I'm especially curious if I have B&B's dynamic down right. Any suggestions or constructive criticism are welcome.

And a pet peeve of mine that might sound more like a complaint when I'm already thankful for the number of reviews: Please, if you've put this story on alert or on your favorites, is it too much to ask that you leave a review every once in a while? Thought I would throw that out there in the beginning. Only seems fair. :)

* * *

**Atypical Fairy Tale**

Chapter Two: Coquettish

"_There is no possible way of knowing whether that's true, Booth. Not only is it impossible for Parker to scientifically predict what profession he'll have after he completes his education, but he's only seven. I find it difficult to believe he has already thoroughly assessed his career goals. His brain hasn't developed enough." Brennan took a deep breath at the end of her spiel. She had not meant to go off on him like that._

_Booth rolled his eyes. "Jeez, Bones, remind me never to tell you about some offhand comment Parker makes ever again."_

_She stole another of the few remaining french fries from his plate. They had been at the diner for nearly an hour, both surprised they had not been called away. "You know I like Parker. You can tell me about him anytime. It's fascinating to get inside the head of a child like that."_

"_I'm gonna have to start calling you Sweets," Booth grinned, meeting her exasperated stare._

"_That's not the point. Would you honestly support Parker's decision to become an astronaut? That's a very improbable career goal if you ask me. You'll have to be there to support your child after his dreams have been crushed."_

_This woman drove him crazy, but there he was, not entirely sure if going insane should feel so right. "Well, lucky for you, Bones, I didn't ask you, and lucky for me, Parker's seven and will probably change his mind a few times before he goes to college. Let's talk about something else. Is there anything we could agree on?"_

_

* * *

_

"What an illogical question," Tullia interrupted again. "You and mom don't agree on anything."

"That's not true," Booth stammered. It was already clear his argument would be a struggle to defend. "We agree on plenty."

A smirk played on Bones' lips, her blue eyes piercing his. "Oh, yeah? Like what?"

Tullia sat eagerly forward. "Yes, I would like an example, please."

Hanley sat widely on his knees, his jean-clad behind resting on the rug between them. "This is boring," he whined, picking up his plane.

"Sweetie, don't sit like that. It's a terrible alignment for your anterior pelvic development," Bones chided from the couch. "You're only able to sit like that because your patellas aren't completely formed yet."

_How had he ended up with such a strange family? _Booth loved them, but God were they weird. He sat silently, waiting for the complaints to pass. It could be a while. "Can we get back to the story? I promise there are some dead, creepy things coming up soon that will be more entertaining."

Bones pinched his arm. "You still haven't told me exactly what it is we agree on. This has been puzzling to me for many years, and I hereby make it your duty to satisfy my curiosity."

His patience was tested; it would not be a normal day if it was not, he thought. "Fine," he said quickly, "we both agree that we love our children." He smirked at her. She would not possibly fight that one.

* * *

_Booth's cell phone shrilled loudly in the diner. It always bothered him a little, what an interruption the contraption became. He might be a Special Agent in the FBI, but it felt impolite to drop everything else just to answer it._

"_Booth," he answered. It was Assistant Director Andrew Hacker, his boss' boss. He never called Booth. _

_He flipped the phone shut after listening to Hacker's instructions. He looked at Bones; she was just itching to get her hands on a freshly-found skeleton. Her passion for her work was just one detail he loved about her. It was tiresome to find someone who understood, as he did, why it was necessary to possess almost complete devotion to his job. Bones comprehended it with ease; her work ethic was a fundamental part of who she was._

"_You're taunting me," she finally said, when Booth sat lamely in the chair across the table, arms folded over his chest, not daring to break eye contact. "We finally have a case, don't we?"_

_He stood up quickly and threw a few bills on the table to cover their meal, then offered a hand to Brennan. "C'mon Bones, we've got ourselves a few bodies."_

_Accepting his grip, she followed him out to the imposing black SUV. "A few bodies? How many?" She was almost salivating. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the bodies they investigated were real people, with real families and real people who would miss them. Mostly victims._

"_Two," he told her, preparing himself for the barrage of questions surely coming his way if he did not save himself quickly. "And before you ask, I don't know anything else."_

_

* * *

_

"You're portraying me as incredibly irritating," Bones remarked during a self-imposed break in the story. "I have a natural curiosity. I like to hear the facts and try to prepare myself, and a plan, before I get to the scene. Is that so bad? Perhaps I should take over reciting the story."

Booth chuckled. He was allowed to think his own wife was irritating. It was true. He squeezed her shoulder. "No, it's not bad, Bones. It's what makes you, you. I'd think something was wrong if you weren't constantly pestering me."

"Excuse me? Pester? I do not pester you, Booth. Perhaps you should present me with all the information without me having to beg. Then none of this so-called 'pestering' would occur."

Fighting with his wife was not on his agenda that night. He glanced at his watch and changed the subject. "We should probably get dinner figured out. These runts need fed."

"I am _not _a runt," Tullia disputed. "My growth is very much on track with well-documented North American scientific standards. Ask Mom."

Booth cut in. "I don't need to, I'm sure she's right." He glanced at his wife and raced over to Tullia's place on the rug, throwing her over his shoulder with ease.

"Dad!"

"Listen here, little lady. You might be the smartest eight, almost nine-year-old I've ever met and will probably ever exist, but that doesn't mean you can't just act like a kid sometimes." She shrieked with laughter when he tickled her sides and placed her on the ground.

Hanley raced around the lower level of their house while his parents prepared dinner, and could not sit still through the meal. "When do I get to hear about the alligator? Did he eat somebody?"

"That's not in this story. Another time, Han," Bones told him. "There are plenty of other cool things in this one."

* * *

_The case led them nearly half an hour outside of the city, to a flat plain of grass and an empty stretch of road. Various case vehicles were sprinkled on the lawn, workers from the Sheriff's department and a separate forensics team investigating the find._

_Snapping on her gloves, Brennan was led to a small brick well. "The victims are in there?"_

"_It's a dry well," an agent told her. "Hasn't been used in years. Someone filled in part of it, so it's very shallow. Can't figure out if they were murdered and dumped in there or if they were hiding from something. Some geocachers found them."_

_Booth peered over the edge hesitantly. He never quite got used to seeing so many dead bodies. He was more into pursuing live targets. "You're going down there?" he asked, grabbing Brennan's arm when she flung her leg over the side of the brick wall with no regard. _

"_It's shallow," she said airily. "He said it himself. Plus, I can't have someone else compromising the evidence. It's wide enough that I can jump down without hurting them. Now give me your flashlight."_

_He could see the bottom, glassy with less than an inch of water. Maybe she was right. She usually was. The small light now secure in the pocket of her protective suit, she rolled her eyes when Booth grabbed both hands. "If you insist on jumping into a dark well, we're doing it my way," he said. "I'll help lower you down. Go slow."_

"_What if I decide to pull you over the ledge?" _

This_, he pinpointed. This was what had been happening lately. What was it? Was she flirting with him? Was Bones even capable of such a thing? "Are you kidding?" He released her hands while she sat straddling the stone wall and struck his best bodybuilding pose. "Have you seen these guns?"_

"_You only have one right now," she countered, brows furrowed. "It's on your belt, in the holster."_

_She was impossible sometimes. "Never mind."_

_With his aid, Bones crawled down the inside of the well, releasing one of his hands so she could grip one of the stones, dropping the last foot or so onto the bottom._

_

* * *

_

Hanley jumped between his parents on the couch. "Is this where Mommy finds bodies?"

While pregnant, Bones had been adamant her children would not call her 'Mommy.' It was too much a pet name, she had said. Tullia had cooperated. But when Hanley faced her, a mini-Booth with touches of childhood blond in his hair, she always let it slip.

"We're just getting to the good part, squirt. Just a little more and then you're off to bed," Booth told him, catching his wife's eye. Bedtime had been particularly troublesome lately.

"I don't wanna go to bed!"

Tonight, Booth was armored with an excuse that might just be effective. "Bud, remember how Parker's with us this weekend? You'll need your energy to play with him for the next few days."

Hanley worshipped his older brother, Parker's weekend or every-other schedule with them encouraging his attachment.

"Ok, just a little more, please?"

* * *

"_Female, early thirties, accompanied by another female, between eight and 10 years of age judging by size and bone development. Adult female has given birth. The girl might be her child." Bones called up from the well._

_Booth groaned. Dealing with children was always particularly challenging for him. He could not help but compare every child to Parker, and could not help but wonder how he would deal with such a massive loss. Impossible, he had decided. _

"_Any idea how they died?"_

"_No signs of weapon-induced trauma," she called back. "Maybe some malnourishment, but it doesn't appear to be the cause of death. I'm gonna gather some particulate samples and get the bones transported back to the Jeffersonian so I can collect more data."_

_He peered back over the edge and she shone the flashlight in his eyes. He covered them. "Need a boost, Bones?"_

_She nodded, her smirk big enough for him to wonder if she had something else up her sleeve. He leaned over the edge anyway, as far as he could without losing his balance. "K, just jump up and grab on, then use your feet to climb up the stones."_

"_I'm perfectly capable of deducing the best method to make the ascent."_

_After she grabbed onto him, she crawled up the wall just as he instructed her. He helped her over the edge and onto solid land. Why was she still holding his hand?_

_They both caught onto the fact and unlaced their fingers in a rush, unable to meet each other's eyes. "So..." she was uncharacteristically wordless. "I'm going to arrange to have these remains brought to the lab. So we can test them. Anthropologically."_

_His hand was tingling. "I'm gonna talk to the Sheriff, see if I can dig up anything else. I'll meet you back at the car."_

_The Sheriff signaled his attention and Booth turned in his direction willingly. Well, _that _was awkward._

_

* * *

_

"You were being very coquettish with Mom," Tullia said.

"_What_?" Booth wondered. _That girl needs to go to school _less_._

Bones and Tullia stared at him. He sought Hanley's back up. "It means flirtatious," both girls told him.

"Oh. Well it was very much mutual. Now both of you are getting to bed. We'll finish this tomorrow. Go brush your teeth and then we'll tuck you in."

Bones patted his lap after the children were finally coerced upstairs to prepare for bed. "You _were_ very coquettish, Agent Booth. How was I supposed to act?" She draped herself across him, thankful for some alone time with her husband after a long day in the lab.

"Are you arguing that I had to seduce you?" He smiled at her. They both knew how different the truth was. "Anyway," he continued, pressing a lingering kiss against her lips, "I'd say everything worked out just fine."


	3. One Question

Chapter Three: One Question

Booth hated nights like these, when he glanced at his watch every five minutes, wishing he had made it home in time to eat dinner with his family. It was 8:30 and he was just finishing up some closing paperwork on a case. Since the birth of his children, he and Bones were forced to make some adjustments to their work schedules. Gone were the nights when both of them returned home just in time for bed, only to get up and do the same thing the next day.

Tullia had called his cell phone, asking if he would be home for dinner, putting on her best pout when he told her it was not likely. As precocious as his daughter could be, she could act her age when she wanted to.

He stretched and slipped into his suit jacket, grateful that what had turned into the work night was over. Twenty-five minutes later, he pulled into the garage, smiling when Hanley poked out of the interior door, a grin almost identical to his peering back at him.

"Hey, Bub," he told his youngest son. "Save me some dinner?"

"Parker's here!" he yelled instead, leaving the door open for his dad. "Mom is making him wash the dishes!"

"I'm not making him," Temperance said. She pressed a kiss against his lips, pulling his jacket off his shoulders. "It just so happens that you've raised a very polite young man, and he offered. Why would I say no?"

Booth grinned. He loved coming home to this every night. This woman. What had he done to deserve her and his wonderful family? Wrapping his hands around her waist, he kissed her again, only pulling away when Hanley made gagging noises and motioned his finger down his throat.

Parker was indeed washing dishes, but dried his hands when he saw his father and allowed himself to get pulled into his father's embrace. "They're not bothering you too much, are they Park?" Booth asked, hardly able to believe his little boy was approaching eighteen.

Parker shook his shaggy hair from his eyes. "Nah. They're annoying but I can't help but like them." He shot a glance to his sister. Tullia stood with her hands on her hips but for once kept her mouth shut. Though she never vocalized her love for Parker like Hanley did, Booth and Bones knew she looked up to him. They were both so thankful to have a teenager who, for the most part, was a good example.

He caught up a bit with Parker, though they had met for lunch the previous week and he came over for dinner a few times between his visits. Now that he had a driver's license, he and Rebecca no longer were required to shuttle him around and Parker could visit more freely.

They had saved Booth a plate, and as it warmed in the microwave, Tullia tugged on his sleeve. "I want to hear more of the story. You promised us last night. You left off right after Mom found those bodies in the well."

Parker rose his eyebrows. He was accustomed to Tullia's strange vocabulary – she was half Bones, after all – but glanced at his father for an explanation.

"These two," Booth motioned to his younger children, "wouldn't settle down the other night, so I started telling them the story of me and Bones."

"More precisely, he's telling us about a case," Tullia said. "Anyway, Mom had just found two bodies in a well..."

Parker laughed and sat down on the couch next to Bones. His visits were never normal. What had he expected this time?

* * *

"_It wouldn't take long for this degree of decomposition to occur given the open-air source that the well was," Bones said as she surveyed the bodies on the forensic platform. "But it's unlikely that the victims died in the well. It's far more logical that they were murdered and then disposed of at the site." Brennan mulled over the possibilities. "There's hardly any flesh left. Dr. Saroyan, is it possible to ID them from any of it?"_

"_I can extract some DNA from the tissue, see if it matches anything in a database, but other than dental records, that's about all we've got. Unless you've got something up your sleeve." Cam was not worried. Dr. Brennan almost always came through for her. "Any idea on cause of death?"_

_Brennan's eyebrows furrowed. "I'll have to do some testing to confirm, but now that I take a closer look at the skeleton, it appears that there are some marks on the sacrum and coxal bones of the adult female. They look to be from a knife or a similarly-shaped weapon."_

_Cam grimaced. "Were they fatal?"_

"_Most likely. To have such deep bone lacerations indicates an extreme amount of force. It's unlikely anyone could survive an attack like that."_

"_And the girl?"_

"_I see no signs of trauma. Malnutrition is the only thing I can logically conclude. It seems to be far more advanced than the older female's. It was a very prolonged case."_

"_She starved to death?"_

_Brennan nodded. "It appears so. Angela's working on facial reconstruction for both of them, so hopefully that will lead us in the right direction."_

_As Cam was explaining that she would run DNA from each of the victims through the system, Bones heard her phone chirp the tone she had chosen specifically for Booth. "Booth is questioning the geocachers. I guess they're suspects. He wants me over there."_

* * *

"I didn't know you got to ask the bad guys questions," Hanley remarked, sitting pleasantly beside Parker. "That's really cool."

"Hey," Booth cut in. "What about me? That's what I do all the time, Bud, and you don't think that's cool?"

"Duh. Mom gets to figure out how dead people died _and _talk to bad guys."

Grinning back at Bones, Booth slung his arm around her and said, "Well, I've always said your mother is the better of the two of us."

Bones cocked her head to the side. "Career wise, I may have a few more objectives, but that hardly makes me better."

It was Booth's turn to be surprised. "Temperance Brennan, is that you? Admitting that you're not better than someone? What have you done with my wife?"

Though it had been years since his dad and Bones had gotten together, sometimes Parker was caught off guard by their banter. After just more than ten years as a couple, he had thought that trait might start to simmer. He would never admit it to anyone, but seeing them gave Parker some hope that he could have a similar relationship.

"It's fascinating that the two victims had different causes of death," Tullia said. "I wonder how they ended up in that well together."

Booth sometimes wondered if the story he was telling his children was all that appropriate. He had certainly skipped over some of the extremely gory sections of the tale, and he would have to censor later on, especially when it concerned the night that he and Bones got together. _They grew up with talk of corpses and murders. They're normal enough, if not exceptional. They want to hear it..._

"You're lucky it's Friday," Booth said, thankful to interrupt his churning brain. "Or else I'd be ending here."

"You're gonna finish the story tonight?" Hanley asked eagerly, playing with a Hot Wheels car, running it up and down Parker's leg.

Bones twisted her leg with Booth's, one hand secured on the back of his neck, rubbing softly. "Oh, this was a very complicated case," she teased. "We could stay up all night and the story still wouldn't be over."

* * *

"_So you're looking around the field where the bodies were found, for what? A clue?" Booth asked number one of the four geocachers. _

_Sweets had already explained the basics of geocaching to him. There was a Web site people signed up for, then left clues and coordinates to the location of their cache. Some people chose parks and other public grounds, and some members were trustworthy enough to hide a cache on their own property. Whoever decided to look for the cache would use a handheld GPS to get close, and when they found the it, would sign the log and place it back in its hiding spot for the next geocacher. _

_His file said the man he was interviewing was 19, but Booth thought he looked 14. He reminded him of Sweets, who was standing outside the interrogation room, on the other side of the two-way mirror. "It's not really a clue. You can leave whatever you want. Little trinkets, trackers, stuff like that. But it's mostly about signing the log then reporting it back to the site. We went straight for the well because it seemed like a good place to hide something. We were thinking the log would be in a film canister and attached to the underside of the roof."_

"_But instead you found the bodies?"_

_The guy nodded. "We found the canister with the log in it, too. You think we had something to do with this? You think we killed those people?"_

"_We're just trying to figure out why you were there, if geocaching wasn't just a convenient excuse to uncover the bodies."_

"_You mean the person who left the log? You think they used the site to lead us there?"_

_Booth shrugged. "It's possible. Can you remember how many people had signed the log before you?"_

"_Maybe twenty or so. The last one was dated over two months ago. I remember because it was the same day as my mom's birthday. We gave the cache to one of the officers. You think those bodies were in there for months?"_

"_This isn't about what I think, Mr. Schmidt. It's about what I can prove."_

_Bones stood beside Sweets on the other side of the two-way mirror, watching how easy Booth made it seem to interrogate someone. It never appeared to be very difficult until she had tried it and failed miserably. She admired his demeanor, how comfortable suspects seemed to be in his presence, even when he was grilling them about a disappearance or a murder. _

_She vaguely heard Sweets mumbling commands to Booth, but they all knew that this group of kids had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. _

_Booth made his way to Bones and Sweets, noting their silence. "They didn't do it," Booth sighed. "They're just a bunch of unlucky kids whose hobby was just ruined."_

_He looked to Sweets, who shifted his eyes toward Brennan and gave him a puzzled look. "Dr. Brennan?" he asked, attempting to rouse her from her long stare at Booth._

_God, (not that she believed in God) what was it that had suddenly made Booth more attractive? Why had she never noticed how broad his shoulders were or how she could get lost in the brown of his eyes? This certainly was not the first time she had registered that he was an attractive male; she was not that detached. She noticed how other women ogled him. But this was different. Bad, maybe. This survey she was doing now, it was not 'anthropologically speaking,' as usual. It was something else. Somewhere she would never allow herself to go. _

_Booth waved his hand in front of her face, curious why her eyes were fixed on his face, then seemed to be roaming his body. He could not hold back his flush. _

"_Earth to Bones," he sang. She finally snapped out of it, flashing him a guilty smile. "I apologize," she whispered. "I don't know what got into me."_

_Sweets smirked. "Dr. Brennan just displayed the typical signs of attraction–"_

_Booth cut him off. The level of embarrassment about to make itself between them could not be further encouraged by a psychiatrist who looked twelve. It had no place between he and Bones, period._

_Even if he wanted what Sweets was about to say to be true. More than anything._

_

* * *

_

Booth had just made his way downstairs after tucking in Hanley and Tullia. He spotted his wife and Parker chatting on the couch.

"They seemed to eat up that story," Parker said. "You're sure you're not embellishing a bit?"

Bones rolled her eyes. "Your father is a very good storyteller. Often people will tell him that he's very animated."

Booth sat down between them, throwing an arm around each of them. "Why, you want to take over, Bones? Think you can do better?"

Park laughed immediately at the typical defensive tone that shot from Bones' mouth in reply to his father. "I certainly got a lot of exercise in storytelling upon the birth of our two children. I even remember reading to Parker a few times when he was younger. I'm sure I'm more than capable of entertaining them–"

Booth cut her off, as he often did, with a kiss, wishing to take it further as they sometimes would on the couch, after they were sure the kids were asleep.

Parker tried not to roll his eyes in mock disgust, and was thankful when they eventually pulled apart. He turned toward both of them. "I have just one question."

"Shoot," Booth said, tapping his fingers against Bones', savoring the time he spent with his family.

"Why the hell did it take you two so long to get together?"

* * *

You know what to do. ;)


	4. Sunshine and Rainbows

Thanks for your reviews. Would love your feedback on this one.

* * *

Chapter Four: Sunshine and Rainbows

Saturday had long ago refrained from being Booth's day off–or Temperance's, for that matter. It did not matter if the FBI and the Jeffersonian, respectively, said they had the time off. Kids got in the way of all that–they were involved; they had friends, hockey practice and play rehearsals to attend to.

"Hanley, stop that right now," Booth said, swatting his son's hand away from the back of his head, where he was being poked through the headrest. "I'm trying to drive and it would go a lot better if you weren't doing that."

The boy continued the charade, his father's slight warning having no effect. But Booth was no pushover–he could adopt a certain seriousness and tone that his kids never failed to respond to.

Traffic was heavy for a Saturday morning, and as he weaved through it in his FBI-issued SUV, Booth picked up his cell phone, seeing Bones' name flash across the caller ID.

A long sigh dragged out of his mouth–he did not mind hearing from his wife, but they better not have a case today. He seriously doubted that Parker wanted to spend his Saturday carting his younger siblings around.

"Hiya, Bones. What's wrong? Someone die?"

He rubbed at his forehead at his wife's answer. "Of course someone died. According to the last census report I read, 1.8 people die every second on this planet. Hundreds of humans will die just during this conversation."

"What? 1.8? Why can't they just round up?"

From the backseat, Hanley scrapped for the phone. "I wanna say hi to Mom! Tell her about that move I made at practice! Justin wouldn't stop talking about it. Can I have him over so you can teach it to him?"

"Because, Booth, that would significantly alter the overall statistic–"

"Hanley says hi. What's going on on your end?"

Booth cursed as someone pulled in front of him and braked hard, causing him to stop the SUV with a jolt. "What the hell are you doing, you moth–"

"Booth! Stop it!" Bones warned him through the phone. "When I get home I'll expect to find some extra money in that swear jar..."

Hanley was wide-eyed in the backseat. "Sorry, bud," he apologized. "Promise me you'll never drive like that."

"I wanted to make sure you two were still coming to meet us at Tullia's practice. Parker said he'd be here in a bit."

Booth grumbled, realizing that Bones had probably already called Parker. He remembered being that age and how much he hated to have his sleep interrupted on a weekend. "Aww Bones, you didn't wake him up, did you?"

She made a groan of protest. "He sounded perfectly alert when I spoke with him. Besides, it's almost 11. No one should need to sleep that late."

What is done is done, Booth decided, and left the subject alone. "We'll be there in about 20, Bones. Traffic's a bitch."

Chides came simultaneously from his wife and son. "Might as well empty out that wallet, Seeley. I'll see you soon. I love you."

"Love you too," he said, snapping his phone closed.

"Why don't you tell me some more about hockey practice?" Booth knew very well how it had gone–as well it could with a bunch of six-year-olds with sticks on ice. Maybe he was biased, but Booth had assessed the other boys on the team and decided Hanley was much better than them. If he did not want to follow in his father's footsteps and become an FBI agent, Booth mused, maybe he could be a professional hockey player.

When they arrived at the small theater 30 minutes later, Booth took Hanley's hand and pushed the doors to the auditorium open quietly. After a particularly mouthy day from Tullia, he and Bones had decided that theater might fit her just perfectly. She _was _a drama queen. Booth chuckled when he saw her on stage with other kids around her age. They were putting on a production of Shakespeare's The Comedy of Errors, and there was something so amusing to him about watching kids who were obsessed with iPods and cell phones dressed in 1500s-style clothing.

Bones waved him over and he saw Parker sitting next to her. How he had made it there before them, Booth had no idea.

They sat quietly, only hushing Hanley a few times, until the group finished the scene. Booth could say with certainty that it was the only Shakespeare production that had ever managed to capture his attention.

Afterward, Tullia ran off the stage to meet them. "M'lady," Booth greeted her, kissing her hand and watching her stretch out into a bow. He surveyed her structured dress and how carefully her hair had been pinned back, even though this was only rehearsal. "That was a fine performance."

The auditorium cleared out around them. Bones suggested they leave, but Tullia had pulled Parker up on stage with her, and he was begrudgingly following her orders. He held a script in his hands and mumbled lines in his very best 16th-century parlance.

Booth headed toward the stage to get a closer look. He would never grow tired of seeing the dynamic between Parker and his younger siblings. They may only be half siblings, but they had never thought of their relationship that way. Plain and simple, Parker was their brother.

Squirming in his seat, Hanley pouted, "I'm bored. This is stupid and they're talking funny."

"Why don't you tell me about hockey practice? Anything cool happen?" Bones asked, taking a seat next to her son and ruffling his hair playfully. "Dad says you're getting pretty good."

"He promised we could go to the rink sometime this week so he could show me some puck handling."

"He did, did he? That sounds like fun. You're going to be better than him before you know it."

A few minutes later, Bones had been successfully trapped into continuing the case story, right where Booth had left off the night before.

"You keep telling Dad that you could tell the story better..."

* * *

_Hodgins finally had his chance at the two skeletons. He peered over them eagerly, tweezers in hand. He was somewhat let down when nothing obvious jumped out at him. Never one to give up, he pulled over his state of the art microscope, thanking God that he worked at a well-funded institution such as the Jeffersonian._

"_Anything?" Hodgins shot off of the stool. _

"_Sneaking up on me, Dr. Brennan?"_

_Brennan snapped on a pair of gloves and examined the remains. "So what can you tell me that I didn't know already? Which isn't much, I'll admit."_

_Hodgins furrowed his brow in confusion before returning his stare to the microscope. "Have you talked to Dr. Saroyan lately?"_

_Bones shook her head. "No, I haven't. Not since before I went with Booth to the FBI building for the questioning. Did she find something?"_

"_She thinks she may have found another contributor to the younger female's death. She wants to run it by you first, though."_

"_You have no idea what it is?"_

_Reluctant to spill Dr. Saroyan's find, Hodgins felt Brennan's icy stare before he gave in. "Leukemia, possibly. It took her more than an hour of poring over the microscope to come to that conclusion, though. I'm sure you would've found the same thing."_

_Sure enough, as Bones peered through the lenses of the microscope, she came to the same verdict. The damage to the bones was easily masked to the naked eye by the damage caused by malnutrition. "I would've deduced that the child had treatments for leukemia in less than 10 minutes. It's fairly obvious under the microscope."_

_Bones called Daisy over to the platform and instructed her to take samples for verification, then left Hodgins to his particulate work. After a run in with Dr. Saroyan in which she tried, as gracefully as Bones could, to thank her for her work, she made her way to her office, sinking tiredly onto the couch. She was ready for the day to be over. _

"_Thought you might need a little boost." It was Brennan's turn to jump. In her haste to bury herself in the comforts of her couch, she failed to notice Booth in the corner of her office, looking over a selection of books on Ethiopian tribal chants. _

_Booth laughed; he rarely caught Bones off guard. The shock etched on her face was strangely cute. She accepted the coffee gratefully as he sat next to her, and she was strangely aware of his proximity and the crispness of his aftershave. When he slung his arm around her, as he often did, her body buzzed. She must be tired. _

"_What's wrong, Bones? You're looking a little... unenthusiastic, considering we have a new case on our hands."_

"_What makes you think something's wrong? Does it look like something's wrong?"_

_Booth let out an exasperated sigh. "Even if it didn't, it _sounds _like something's wrong. Spill."_

_She was getting better at admitting how comforting Booth could be, how he usually knew just what to say and how to act and if he should push her for answers, but sometimes it was overwhelming how well her knew her. _

_Suddenly that fact irritated her, and she switched topics. "What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be busy interrogating people and looking all strong and intimidating?"_

_Oh God, that cocky smile. The belt buckle fit him perfectly. "Strong, huh?" He squeezed his arm around her. "Well, you're right about that of course, but it's kind of hard to interrogate when you don't have any suspects."_

"_So you're here for no reason..."_

_He punched her lightly on the arm. "I'm here to see my friend Bones, who apparently needs some cheering up."_

"_I do not," she said moodily. "Not every day can be sunshine and rainbows, Booth."_

"_Noted." He glared at her. Trained sniper, former heartbroken man–he was the last person she needed to tell. "However, I'm also here to remind you of our appointment with Sweets." Booth lifted Brennan's wrist toward his chest to check the time. "It's in half an hour, you know, if you wanted to join me."_

"_But we have a case!"_

_Unconsciously he still had Brennan's wrist gripped in his hand. They both realized it, but he thought it might become more awkward if he suddenly dropped it. "Yeah," he recovered. "A case with no suspects and from what I hear, no further evidence. I don't wanna go either..."_

_

* * *

_

"Is Sweets a person?" Tullia interrupted. She had let Parker off the hook and joined her mother and brother for the story. Booth stood with his arms crossed, keeping Bones in check, should she decide to embellish anything.

"You've met him before. Dr. Sweets, remember him? He's a shrink."

"Why did you need to see him? You and mom are both very stable."

A glint in her eye, Bones let Booth explain. "The FBI made us, Tul. It was supposed to keep us in good communication in our partnership. They still make us go in once a month."

Parker rolled his eyes, thinking of the neurotic Dr. Sweets and the few times Booth had begged him to babysit. He had memories of having long, uncomfortable chats with the psychologist when all Parker wanted to do was ride his bike.

* * *

To be continued...


	5. Authenticity

Sorry it's taken me so long to post this chapter. I've had some big changes in my life that required a bit of prioritizing. But your reviews have been great and I enjoy writing this story. Hope you'll make me a happy writer and continue them. :)

* * *

**Atypical Fairy Tale**

Chapter Five: Authenticity

"_Dr. Brennan, I'm under the impression that you find the lack of evidence in this case extremely frustrating. One might even say you're borderline obsessing over your lack of control."_

_As always, Sweets spoke animatedly, his hands composing the air in front of him, his pen taken along for the ride. Just as Sweets had thought "Ha, I finally got her," Booth interrupted diligently. _

"_It just so happens that our case actually matters, Sweets. Two people are dead. We have to find out who did it and why, and that's much different than interpreting someone's thoughts and passing it off as casework. Not to knock your profession, but honestly, we matter a lot more than you right now. You can accuse Bones here of being obsessive after we at least track down a suspect."_

_His defense of her had sounded so noble at first, then he had tagged on that last sentence. Even if it was true, Brennan did not love the idea of being thought of as obsessive. She preferred the term dedicated._

"_Of course a lack of evidence is frustrating," she piped in. "It's a natural reaction as both a scientist and an investigator to aim to solve whatever case is presented to us. Any other response could be seen as a lack of compassion."_

_Trademark smirk stretched across his lips, Booth agreed. "Yeah, what she said. Bones is just trying to do her job."_

"_You don't have to defend me. I'm perfectly capable of overriding Dr. Sweets' ideas–"_

"_I'm not defending you. I'm... agreeing. Why do you have to pick apart everything I say?"_

_Brennan turned defensively on the couch. "I wouldn't pick apart everything you said if you thought about what you were saying before you said it! And why do you feel the need to constantly stick up for me, as if I'm some brainless female?"_

"_Has anyone ever told you how absolutely infuriating you can be? Next time someone's about to shoot you, remind me not to step in front of you to take the bullet."_

_Silence stung the room. Sweets, for once, was not sure what to say. Brennan drew a deep breath. "That was one time! And I wasn't implying that I'm unthankful for the things you've done for me in the past. I just mean, that verbally, you could let me defend myself a little more–without interruption."_

"_Only if you can promise the same thing, which is doubtful."_

_Was it slightly demonic that Sweets was beginning to enjoy this verbal spar? Even if they got nothing accomplished during the session, at the very least, Sweets might come out of it entertained. "If I could just interrupt for a second, not to highlight that phrase any more... Can I ask you, Dr. Brennan, why you believe Agent Booth feels like he needs to 'defend' you, as you say?"_

"_I don't know, can you?"_

_A concerned line appeared between Sweet's scrunched brows. "Can I what?"_

"_The proper phrase is 'May I ask you.' One would assume that if you had the lingual skills to develop and raise the question, that you are, indeed, capable of asking a question."_

"_See?" Booth asked indignantly. "See how she just turns a situation around like this whole discussion is really about grammar?"_

"_Excellent point, Dr. Brennan. And another excellent point, Agent Booth. But back to the original question. Why do you think Agent Booth feels like he has to defend you?"_

Because I'm in love with her, _ Booth's mind screamed. _Whoa, where the hell did that come from? _A furious blush crept to his cheeks, though he was well aware, or hoped to God anyway, that neither of them had the ability to read his mind. _Get out, get out, get out of my head! h_e chanted. _Of course I love her. I've already told her that! This isn't different _at all. _

_Never mind that loving someone and being in love with them were two completely different things. _

_

* * *

_

"You never told me that," Bones said, grasping his bicep while he drove, both of the kids in the backseat. Parker trailed in the car behind them, following his dad back to the house.

Booth smirked. "You know how sometimes it's... difficult for a man like me to admit to things like that. But I'd say we were equally as stubborn when it came to admitting our feelings for each other."

Temperance snorted. Her husband was an absolute kick sometimes. "I hardly think I was stubborn. When we first embarked on our romantic relationship, I was very adamant that it was purely sexual–"

"Jesus, Bones! Our children are in the car, and in case you haven't noticed, they're pretty observant. Tullia's like a parrot. Whatever you say, she'll repeat."

"I'm not a parrot, Dad. That's a silly comparison. Plus, Mom has already explained to me about sexual–"

Hanley hummed to himself in the backseat, clearly taking an absence from the conversation. Booth was thankful, but knew that his wife had won that battle. She always knew how to make him squirm.

"Tell us more!"

"Later, Tul. Your brother's in another world right now and you look beat. After dinner."

They drive for fifteen minutes in relative silence, Bones fiddling with the radio and turning it off when she found nothing to her liking.

"But you were wrong, you know," he said after Tullia's breathing had slowed and she appeared to be sleeping.

Unsure of what her husband was referring to, Bones shot him a glance. "Doubtful, but to what are you referring?"

Flipping on his blinker, Booth turned onto the quiet street where they resided. "What you said before. How you were adamant that in the beginning our relationship was only... sexual," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "That's dead wrong and we both know it."

She clutched her hand over his in the middle console, looking out the window at their winding street. "Well, to be fair, I _was_ adamant. That doesn't mean I was correct."

After pulling into the garage, Booth turned off the ignition and leaned back into the headrest, closing his eyes. "What are you doing? You're acting strange," Bones said, turning toward him.

"Oh, me? I'm savoring this moment," he reassured her. "Because my wife just admitted, for maybe the third time since I've known her, that she was wrong about something."

* * *

"_I've never been more thankful to go look at some maggots," Booth said as they strolled out of Sweets' office and made their way to his SUV. "I should tell Hodgins how much I appreciate him more often, interrupting our hellish meeting like that."_

"_Yes, well he told me he's determined time of death from the insect activity. You should appreciate the 'squints' as you call us, for our ability to take a case through its proper phases."_

_A few minutes later, Brennan swiped her card to grant access to the platform, as Booth trailed her. _

_Hodgins was alert, hunched over his microscope like a kid in a candy store. "This was particularly challenging given the almost nonexistent insect activity," he started, clearly about to embark on a long speech._

"_K, so when did they die? Let's cut to the chase."_

"They _didn't die."_

_Booth guffawed. "I might not be a scientist or waste my time playing with bugs, but I'm pretty sure those two are dead. You know, the lack of flesh and... movement, kind of give that much away."_

_Ignoring Booth's rant, Hodgins rolled his eyes and turned to Brennan. "Adult female died approximately sixteen months ago, given the amount of decomp and the indicators I found inside of a few of the insects. They were all congruent to the area in which the bodies were found. I don't think this was foul play, which is going to make your end of the case," he looked to Booth, "even more difficult."_

"_What about the child?" Angela piped in, concern stretched across her face. Children were the most difficult part of the job._

"_She was there first. I'm placing time of death at 18 months. Because of her malnutrition, her bones were more porous than average. There was quite a bit of insect activity on the interior."_

_Trying not to show his disgust, Booth flipped through his notes. "So we know approximate times of death, and cause of death. Other than that... nothing. I'm going to talk to the geocachers again, this time separately."_

"_I'm coming with you," Bones said after Booth had taken the steps down the platform two at a time. _

_Not breaking his stride, Booth called out behind him, "Of course you are."_

_

* * *

_

"This case is taking a long time. It's getting boring," Tullia whined as they sat around the dinner table. Booth laughed inside; they were probably the only family who regularly talked about corpses as a part of dinner conversation.

"Cases are very complicated sometimes. But we're coming up on the good part," Bones offered. "Eat the rest of your salad."

Booth raised his eyebrows and bit his tongue–the last thing he wanted was to get into another discussion about their sexual activities in front of the kids. It was true, the story really was coming up to the good part, but which she was referring to– the result of the case or the beginning of their relationship– he was not sure.

Easily reading her husband's thoughts, Bones chided him and continued her conversation with Tullia. "Despite the fact that you think all your father and I do is argue, we really do make a good team. I think you'll see that further on in the story."

* * *

_After speaking with a few of the geocachers who had found the bodies, Bones and Booth were led to a potentially more direct source._

"_We're headed to talk to Justin Briggs, creator of the geocaching site used to find this particular cache. Maybe he can tell us something helpful."_

"_Sounds like we're grasping at spoons," Brennan said, running her hand idly through her hair. _

"_It's grasping at_ straws_, Bones. Geez, sometimes I think you're from another planet. But you're right. We kind of are grasping. But right now there are no other leads. We can't even identify the victims."_

"_Hey," she said, a little offended. "We're all working on it. You try figuring out who someone is from decomped bones, insects and particulates."_

_To silence her, he held up his hand. "Well, that's kind of your job, Bones, and you're always bragging that you're the best at it, so..."_

_Their argument did not end when they arrived at Briggs' house, and continued until the sloppy-looking man opened the door. It appeared that he had just woken up._

"_Justin Briggs?" Booth questioned, and the man nodded. Booth flashed his badge and identified himself. He never grew tired of the reaction. "We're here to ask you a few questions about your Web site. Mind if we come in?"_

_After a briefing on geocaching and showing Booth and Brennan his Web site, Booth began his questioning. "Any suspicious behavior on any of the accounts lately?"_

_Briggs shrugged. "There's always someone starting trouble. Posting false caches, always the chance of someone trying to lead someone to danger just for the hell of it."_

"_Who moderates the activity on the site? Is it only you or do you have a staff?"_

_Motioning to his surroundings, "I don't have a ton of money in case you haven't noticed. I mostly handle the design and upkeep of the domain. There's one guy who moderates for me though, for an hour or two a day. Guy's obsessed with cacheing, even more than I am. He's kind weird if you ask me, but I don't have to pay him. His name's Mason Keppler. I can give you his information."_

"_Yeah," Booth said, smirking at Bones. "Why don't you do that." Finally, this case was going somewhere._

_Bones flashed him a smile, the wide, genuine kind that seemed to be the only variety she possessed. Her authenticity was something he could certainly appreciate; Bones did not smile unless she meant it. Which is why, when Booth thought of their sometimes-flirty behavior and how relative strangers seemed to assume they were a couple, he wondered if there was more to it._

_And what he had thought in Sweets' office, how his brain had misfired and shouted internally that he was in love with Bones... well, that had to be wrong. _


End file.
